


Co-operative Efforts

by akite



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 23:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3506909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akite/pseuds/akite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser and Ray Kowalski visit Houston, Texas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Co-operative Efforts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Anywhere But Here Challenge on the Due South Flashfiction Live Journal community.

A. Kite (October 2004)

The oppressive humidity hit Ray as soon as he walked out of the automatic doors at Houston's Hobby Airport. Enough so that he remarked to Fraser, "Hasn't this place ever heard of fall? You know, October? Leaves falling, Halloween?"

"Well, Ray, you do know that Houston is on the upper Gulf Coast, and as such, has a mostly temperate climate all year round. Be thankful that this conference wasn't held in June or July."

Fraser was being reasonable again, and doing his lecturing thing. Ray hated that. But instead of being disagreeable, he offered, "Maybe you should go back inside. I'll get you when the shuttle comes."

The Chicago P.D. had flown them from O'Hare into this airport for the conference, to be held in a downtown hotel. Cheaper airfare and closer in, it made sense at the time, but Ray was thinking that maybe a longer ride would get them more, what was the word? Acclimated? Yeah, that was it. Right now he was sweating his balls off, and Fraser had to be even more than he.

Fraser shook his head at the suggestion, "No, Ray. It's all right. I expect I'd better get used to it."

They moved away from the doors and over to the side to wait for the hotel shuttle that they'd summoned to show up and moved right into a wall of tobacco smoke. The smell of it made Ray want to light one up himself, but, no, he'd given up smoking when he took the Vecchio assignment.

Fraser wriggled his nose at the smell and inched them passed the smoker's enclave. Fortunately, the Hyatt Regency ran a top-notch service. They didn't have to wait long at all for the van to arrive. Both men were traveling pretty light, so they were able to stow their baggage and find seats on the air-conditioned shuttle in quick time.

The cool air in the van felt like heaven.

It started to storm as they were driving away from the airport. Sitting right up front, Ray and Fraser heard the driver sigh. He half turned and said to the population at large, "I hope you all don't mind the scenic route. Traffic on the Loop's going to be a mess in this."

There were several other people on the shuttle, but none of them made a complaint. Ray didn't have a clue to what the driver was talking about anyway. They drove through, what Ray thought was a pretty scuzzy part of town. Where were the oil barons' mansions, Ray wondered. Not down by the airport that's for sure. They passed under a major highway. Then Ray saw what the driver was talking about. The signs indicated that this was the 610 Loop that the driver was talking about. It was all backed up and traffic at a stand still. "Jeeze! Would you look at this rain, Fraser?" Ray winced as a particularly bright flash of lightening came down close to the van. He squeezed Fraser's forearm as they drove through a patch of the street that was already flooded.

"I'm sure the driver knows what he's doing," Fraser assured him in a whisper. Though, he was becoming seriously doubtful himself. This was a major thoroughfare they were traveling on, but he certainly couldn't understand why a city this size allowed its streets to get in this condition. Surely, it rained this heavily often enough for something to be done about drainage.

When he expressed this opinion, quietly, as not to offend the van driver, Ray replied, "Well, Fraser, you build a city on a swamp, what do you expect?" Fraser looked at him in surprise. "What? You didn't think I was paying attention on the plane?"

"I apologize, Ray. I thought you'd, how would you put it? Tuned me out, that's right, isn't it?"

Ray smiled briefly and answered, "Yeah, but I didn't."

"Actually, Ray, they call them bayous here, not swamps..."

Fraser was in lecture mode again, and this time Ray did tune him out.

Eventually, they made it through the rain to their hotel wholly intact. Which was a big relief. By the time they arrived, the clouds were rolling back, and the sun was peeking out. There was a cool breeze blowing, bringing a hint of autumn.

The Hyatt Regency in downtown Houston was an impressive hotel, even by Ray's Chicago standards, and he'd stayed at some fancy places when he was married to Stella. It took them a full five minutes to make their way from the entrance to check-in counter. Past a full hair salon and several other shops. Ray had to tug Fraser along a couple of times when he stopped to look at something. They weaved their way through a crowd of people in a line that disappeared down a ramp to the basement. Ray slowed down a couple of times himself. He goggled up at the thirty-story atrium, and once when their path crossed a man that was a dead ringer for J. R. Ewing with the fancy cowboy boots and hat. He hadn't believed people really dressed that way; he thought it was just on TV.

Ray nodded at the other police types at the counter, but they were gone by the time Ray got checked in and finished asking directions to the Imperial Ballroom where the reason they were in Houston was happening: Hands Across the Border, a conference on international policing techniques and co-operative efforts. Ray thought the Hands Across the Border title was hokey, but here he and Fraser were courtesy of the CPD and the RCMP. Ray expected to be bored out of his mind. You partner with a Mountie and you pay and pay and pay.

Of course, being there with Fraser meant things didn't stay boring for long. They were just heading for the elevators when a scream rang out from the level below. People came running back up the ramp to the Lobby from basement. Ray heard a woman shout, "Help! She's going to kill him!"

Lickety-split, before Ray could even move, Fraser was dodging through the panicked crowd toward the trouble. Ray sighed, dropped his bag and followed swiftly. Ray's eyes barely registered the banner across the entrance to the exhibit hall that said, "Welcome Hidden Heartbeats Fans!" He zigzagged to miss hitting a rather large woman head-on, as he looked for which way Fraser might have gone. He ran past tables full of memorabilia and 8x10 glossies. The crowd was thinning out quickly, and Ray got to the area in the middle where a stage was set up. Fraser was on the stage shielding some guy from the nutburger lady with the gun.

As Ray edged closer, trying not to draw attention to himself, he heard the frazzled blonde say, "But you don't understand! He's evil! He deserves to die for what he's done!" He got it then. Hidden Heartbeats was a soap opera. He remembered his mom watching it when he was a kid. The guy on the stage had to be one of the actors. Not one he remembered as a kid, but one thing he did remember about soaps was the actors changed all the time.

Fraser was trying to talk the lady down. Oh God! The chick was delusional. She thought all that stuff they did on the show was real.

Fraser wasn't having any luck. He was trying to reason with her. "Madam, please. This man isn't Dan Stevens. This man's name is Randall Newburg. He's an actor."

"No, no, I saw him. I saw him kidnap Jessie's baby. Do you know how long she'd been trying to have a baby? And he came right into the house and took her."

Ray thought, "Ok, enough of this." While Fraser kept her distracted, Ray eased up behind and tackled the woman to the floor, grabbing the gun away from her.

It was all over but the back slapping then. HPD officers came barreling into the room and took said nutburger into custody. The grateful hotel management upgraded them to a suite, not that they needed a suite. The mayor even showed up at the conference the next day to thank them personally. It was the perfect photo-op for a politician.

During their complimentary dinner in the Spindletop revolving restaurant, courtesy of the soap opera convention people, Ray had a sudden thought and asked, "Fraser, how'd you know that Newburg guy was an actor?" Ray waggled his eyebrows, "You one of those closet soap opera freaks?"

Fraser blushed a little and explained. "No, not I. Constable Turnbull often tunes in to Hidden Heartbeats during his lunch break at the consulate. Naturally, I have had some exposure to the program. Turnbull is an ardent admirer of Mr. Newburg."

"Yeah, sure thing Fraser, it's all Turnbull." Ray waved off Fraser's protests with a laugh and finished their free bottle of champagne.

Finally, they were resting on the king-sized bed in their luxurious accommodations, discussing possible sight-seeing excursions when Ray turned to Fraser and said, "We still got it, huh, Fraser? You set 'em, and I knock 'em down."

"We do, indeed, Ray." Fraser agreed as he pulled Ray close enough for a kiss.


End file.
